


Gwendolyn

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Actors, F/F, F/M, Gay, Gay Discovery, Hypnotism, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Shakespeare Quotations, Talking Vagina, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: Maddie and her friends go on an impromptu vacation and volunteer for a dirty hypnosis show.  Suddenly, Maddie’s vagina has a mind of its own… and a voice.





	1. Chapter 1

  
***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a talking genital. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

I cross to downstage right, to the throne-like parlor chair.  Taking pains to not to trip on my enormous hooped skirt, I sit delicately, all the while pretending that I am deep in thought.  Chad, playing Malvolio, waits for my next line.

“ _Let him approach,_ ” I say in my loud stage voice.  “ _Call in my gentlewoman._ ”

I’m playing Olivia, and yes, this is Twelfth Night.  It’s the first time I’ve done this show; I’m still a little nervous.

Luckily our audience seems positively tranquilized.  Typical for a matinee.  We have a lot of seniors, half of whom are asleep.  There’s also a handful of geeky teenagers and the occasional tourist who is trying to get the most of their half-off tickets.

Before me, Chad exits while Gracie enters with her entourage.  Gracie is playing Viola… but at this point in the play, Viola is disguised as “Cesario,” a male servant.  So Gracie is wearing a billowing shirt, ugly breeches, a Han Solo-style vest, one truly atrocious wig, and a very fake moustache.  She in **_no way_** looks convincing as a man.  Which helps the humor of the scene.  I guess.

Gracie pretends to look about, making a show of looking impressed.  “ _The honourable lady of the house,_ ” Gracie recites, “ _which is she?_ ”

Because she’s playing a woman disguised as a man, Gracie uses her fake man-voice.  I’ll admit, it is pretty hilarious.

“ _Speak to me,_ ” I reply, pretending to be amused.

Gracie double-takes.  “ _Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty, I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house for I never saw her._ ”

I’m supposed to be flattered.  I fake-blush, then admit, “ _If I do not usurp myself, I am._ ”

And we go on from there.  The point of this scene is to set up a needlessly complex love triangle.  Gracie’s character is here to woo me on behalf of Count Orsino.  Of course, I couldn’t give a fig about Orsino, and Gracie is head-over-heels for him.  But as Gracie gives her love-speech disguised as a man, I fall for her.  Gracie loves Orsino, Orsino loves me, I love Gracie, but as a man.  Everyone is oblivious that they are loved by someone else.

Gracie and I swap lines, and I pretend to find her increasingly sexy.  Soon, I trap her into snuggling on a bench.  Gracie acts flummoxed.  The audience is mildly amused.

I wrap my arms about Gracie’s neck.  My line: “ _I will give out divers schedules of my beauty…  Two lips, indifferent red.  Two grey eyes, with lids to them.  One neck, one chin, and so forth._ ”  As I mention my body parts, I make sure to use them to flirt.

I add the last line in my best “come hither” expression:  “ _Were you sent hither to praise me?_ ”

We get a minor laugh as I try to plant one on Gracie’s lips.

******

After curtain call, the cast peel out of costumes and makeup, grumbling about the lousy audience.  We’ve been doing this show for almost four weeks now.  Thank God this is our last performance until Friday.  Five days off!

I hang out on the Green Room couches, tired and impatiently waiting for Gracie to get back into her street clothes.  The cast is filing out past me, already bundled up for the bitter January winds.  I say half-hearted goodbyes, knowing I’ll be seeing all these people again pretty soon.  I even offer a weary smile to that mousy teenage intern chick who **_always_** seems to be here.  But I’m ready for a break from this theatre.

Chad appears from the Mens’ Room.  “Yo yo,” he says, bounding over to sit by me on the couch.  “S’up, girlfriend?”

I like Chad.  I’ve only known him for our last three productions, but the guy is pretty adorable.  He’s Asian (…Korean, I think?) with perfect facial features, really pretty brown eyes, and a matchstick figure.  We often cast Chad in roles where he takes off his shirt, because his washboard abs are **_amazing_**.

We are all members of the Bridgeport Globe Players, a semi-professional troupe of young Shakespearean actors.  Our shows are the best in the greater Connecticut area, and the most talented of us will be called up for Off-Broadway or higher.  I should be so lucky.

“Hey,” Chad says, “you’ve still got a little base on your cheek.  Hold still.”

Producing a Kleenex, Chad leans over and wipes off that last bit of makeup I somehow missed.

“Oh,” I say, embarrassed.  “Thanks.”

Chad and I tried dating each other when we first met, but it was a disaster.  Complete, utter, total, **_EPIC_** fail.  We did ice skating, dinner, nightcap, even tried kissing.  But there were no sparks.  None.  Like, we locked lips and both knew right away that we were not meant to be.

The upside is that we quickly decided to forget that catastrophe, and have been good friends ever since.  I joke that Chad is my “stage husband.”  Which really isn’t a joke, now that I think about it.

Between you and me…?  I’m fairly convinced Chad is gay.  He’s a little younger than me, maybe twenty-two years old, and came from a really conservative household.  He has tried dating women, but none rang his bell.  Yet I notice him watching the men.  I hope he finds his happiness.

“Sorry, guys!” Gracie cries, bustling from the Girls’ Dressing Room.  She’s got a huge duffle bag slung over one shoulder and another overstuffed backpack on the other.  How can that girl pack so much stuff?

“Yeah, no worries,” I grumble.  “I was hoping to sit around in this dump for hours.”

“Oh, you love me,” teases Gracie, playfully nudging me with the duffle.

Gracie is sexy and beautiful.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s a great actress, but I secretly think she gets cast because she knows how to flirt with an audience.  She just seems so damn… carefree all the time.

Men are drawn to Gracie like ants to honey.  She’s my best friend and roommate, but sometimes I can’t stand her blonde airhead routine.  Like now.

With a happy sigh, Gracie flops into an armchair.  “So… what we doin’, homies?”

“I say Mexican,” Chad offers.

Gracie rolls her eyes.  “No, no, I mean for the **_week_** ,” she exclaims.  “We’ve got five fucking days, and nothing to do, right?”

Personally, I envisioned the hiatus by scrubbing the mildew out of our bathroom and then hopefully reorganizing the kitchen.  Chad was thinking about trying morning kickboxing.

“Oh, you guyyyyyyyyyyys,” Gracie wails, “how can you be so **_boring???_**   We need to get out of town, like, immediately!”

“Grace,” I retort, “where we gonna go?  Its January; there won’t be nothing fun around here for months.”

“Clubbing in the city?” Chad suggests lamely.

Gracie gestures wildly with her hands.  “No, no, no,” she laments.  “I mean, let’s get on a plane.  Let’s…”  Her eyes light up.  “ ** _Eureka,_** bitches!  I know where we’re going.  Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, I surrender my smartphone.  Gracie begins tapping away.

“A plane?” I grouse, exchanging a wary look with Chad.  “Grace, honey, we can’t-“

“Here!” Gracie sits up, swiveling my phone around so Chad and I can see the screen.  She’d pulled up the website for a resort in…

“Bermuda?” says Chad, his eyes growing wide.

“No, no, its totally doable,” Gracie promises, her eyes shining.  “My cousin Chelsea is a bartender at this resort down there.  We can totally crash with her, she’ll be thankful for the company.  Right now, its after Christmas but before Spring Break, so everything is crazy-discounted.  All we gotta do is get there.”

“Grace,” I say firmly, “Sam said we need to stay in town.”

Sam is our director.  He suffers from the delusion that he can magically schedule extra performances on a moment’s notice.

I continue:  “And even if I thought this nutzo getaway idea was feasible, we don’t have enough-“

There’s a **_ding!_** on my phone as a text pops in.  All three of us look to see:

**_Hi Maddie!  Its Mom.  Wanted to let you know that your father put this years $10K into your trust fund over the weekend.  Love you!_ **

“See?” Gracie whines, practically bouncing in her chair.  “The universe is **_commanding_** us to go to Bermuda!”

I sigh, feeling my resistance weakening.

“Com’on, Mads,” implores Grace.  “We could be on a beach in twenty-four hours.  How can you say no to me?”

******

I have to say, the resort’s beaches are a lot whiter and cleaner than I expected.

Chad and I are flopped into wooden lawn chairs, clutching alcoholic lemonade, and watching the blue surf lap against the horizon-to-horizon sand before us.  It is early afternoon.  The air is warm and the skies clear.  A lazy seagull drifts by overhead.

“I gotta say it,” Chad admits, “but she was totally right.”

Gracie was.  Bermuda is even more beautiful than I imagined.  I adjust my bikini top, sip a little lemonade, and close my eyes.

******

Gracie’s cousin Chelsea recommends a few beach restaurants where we can get crabs and beer for cheap.  The food is great, although I’m wiping grease off my fingers every five seconds.

“Alright, slackers,” Gracie says, picking apart a shell, “what are we doing tonight?  Mamma needs some night action.”

I consider that question; I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“There’s a town here, right?” Chad asks, swigging his beer.

Gracie makes a face.  “It’s a tourist town, and this is off-season.  We gotta find something on the resort.  Although you guys will be on your own after, mmm, say ten o’clock.”

“You have plans?” I say, surprised.

“Oh, I’m getting laid tonight,” Gracie promises absently.  “Just have to find the right cock, that’s all.”

I feel a pang of jealousy as she says this.  Gracie is thin, gorgeous, and very blonde.  She has that compact little body with slender hips but perky little breasts.  She picks up men the way people pick up milk at the store.

I, on the other hand, am all thumbs on the dating scene.  Oh, I’m quite shapely and pretty – a must for any actress – but I can never attract the right guy.  The men who I do date wind up grossing me out.  Or turn out to be gay.  Like Chad.

Man, I really, **_really_** need a good shagging.  I can’t remember my last really good orgasm.

As I mull over my comatose sex life, I notice four young men sitting a few tables away.  Not one of them has a shirt on; all have sleek surfer’s bodies.

“Hey,” I quietly say to my friends.

We glance at the boys; they notice us and glance back.

“We’re **_fliiiiiiiiirting_** ,” cackles Gracie under her breath.

“Actually,” I say, “I think they’re looking at you, Chad.”

And so they are.  The youngest and cutest actually blushes a bit when Chad makes eye contact with him.

“You should talk to them, dude,” Gracie urges.

“Oh,” mumbles Chad, “well, I could…”

Then the tallest surfer guy hops to his feet, only to come straight to our table.

“’Ay there,” he says in a thick Australian accent.  “I’m Mikey.”

I’m a bit taken back by his forwardness, but manage a “Hi there,” nonetheless.  We all make quick introductions.

“My mates and I saw you guys; you flew in today, eh?” Mikey the Australian said.

Our pasty white bodies must stand out more than I guessed.

“Listen, don’t know if you guys would like to come, but my mates ‘n me are going to Cove Cock tonight,” Mikey offers.  “There’s always a good crowd there.  Under thirty only.  Cold beer, some music… good times.”

“Nice,” grins Gracie.

“I gotta warn you,” Mikey says, putting up his hands, “things at Cove Cock get a little adult, if you get me.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but we get into naked Twister or Spin the Bottle or Truth or Dare or Drinking Karaoke.  Things get wild.”

“Nice,” grins Gracie.

“’Kay, then,” says Mikey, offering simple directions.  “Hope to see you guys at sundown, then.”

With one last suggestive look at Chad, the Australian returns to his friends.

“See?” Gracie crows, reaching for another crab.  “Night action, here comes Mamma…!”

******

Cove Cock turns out to be a section of the resort’s beach, really just a large, white gazebo not far from the water.  I’m sure families use this place during the day, but for now, the twenty-something’s have taken over.  We seem to have the whole beach to ourselves.

There’s a makeshift dancefloor, with a volunteer DJ working an old boom box.  There’s two open coolers with ice and beer.  A long-haired chick is playing guitar off to one side.  Out on the open sand, there’s a bonfire, cheerfully dancing and popping in the light breeze.

There’s also a lot of couples necking… or more… in the shadows.  The mood here is bubbly fun, like a party waiting to go all-out crazy.

Gracie, Chad, and I are greeted by a skinny islander woman, wearing only a sarong.  I’m surprised, and can’t help staring at her tiny breasts.

“There’s a $20 cover,” the chick says firmly, and we pay up.

“Thanks,” the hostess says.  “Beer is five bucks each, just add to the jar.  Also, we tend to see clothing as optional, just to break the ice.  But you express yourself.”

“Fuck yeah,” agrees Gracie, and unties her bikini top.

We mingle.  Most people are sitting around on the gazebo floor, so I buy a beer and cop a squat.  There’s folks here from Atlanta, Dallas, DC, one even from Orleans, France.  Fun.

There’s a guy across from me, checking me out.

Hmm.  I don’t know if he’s my type…  But, you know what?  Fuck it.  I’m on vacation.  If Gracie is getting some, so am I.

I swig my beer, then scoot over to the guy.

“Hi,” I say, summoning courage.  “I’m Maddie.”

“Hey,” the guy replies.  “Jarod.”

He actually offers me a formal handshake.

Okay, we’re not off to a blazing start here, romantically speaking.  But the night is young.

“I’m an actress,” I offer.  “Shakespeare.  I love it.”  Pause.  “You?”

“I’m an attorney,” nods Jarod.

Another pause.

“Wow,” I say lamely.  “That’s cool.  Er…”

What do you say to chat up a lawyer, anyway?

“What kind of law?” I ask.

“Estate,” is the reply.

Hoo boy.  A sweep-you-off-your-feet prince, this Jarod.

I take another beer swig, and look about.  Gracie off to my left, loudly flirting with those two muscle-bound fellows from Memphis.  She’s playing one off the other, driving both crazy.  The girl’s a dating pro.  Meanwhile, Chad has found Mikey and his buds; they’re inventing a drinking game.

“Hey guys, hey guys,” a tall fellow cries out, standing up on a chair.  Everyone swivels to pay him attention.

“Alright, who wants to do something, something **_fucking nuts?_** ” the guy booms.

There is rowdy cheering, then people start yelling out suggestions.  Most ideas include unnecessary nudity.

The tall fellow grins as people are yelling.  Then he spots someone in the crowd.

“No fucking way, **_I’ve got it!_** ” he cries.  He points to that someone.  “Allison here is a stage hypnotist out of Atlantic City, people, why don’t we have her do some perverted hypnosis on us, yo?”

“Only if you volunteer, Flynn!” a woman yells back.

The tall guy, Flynn, grins sheepishly.  “Okay, okay,” he allows.  “I’ll get hypnotized.  Who else is up for something mind-blowing?”

“Hey, hey!” cries out Gracie, and she excitedly hurries next to Flynn.

I shake my head.  I should have known Gracie would jump at the change to do something stupid like this.  I love her, but the girl needs a little impulse control.

Other people hop up.  Mikey, the bare-chested Australian, saunters up with two of his friends, and I’m surprised when Chad hurries after them.

Chad and I make eye contact.  With my face I ask, _What the fuck are you doing?!?_

Chad flashes me an excited smile.  He’s gaga for Mikey, I should have known.  Oh well.

Allison, the aforementioned hypnotist, stands up, brushing sand from herself.  She’s African-American, with gorgeous chocolate skin and an even more beautiful complexion.  I am momentarily blown away by her doe-like, round eyes.  Dressed in a thong bikini which she is definitely rocking, she immediately catches every male eye.  Even Chad’s.

Hey, she’s got a tattoo of a Chinese dragon snaking around her neck.  Cool.

“Hey yo’s,” Allison says to everyone.  Her voice is rich and powerful.  “You know, I should charge my standard two thousand bucks for this…”

There is a groan of protest from all around.

“…but fuck it, its my last night of vacation,” the beautiful hypnotist shrugs.  “Okay, my volunteers, you all want an **_adult_** show, right?  Something racy… but not X-rated?”

“X-rated is fine,” Flynn cracks.  The topless hostess, standing next to him, elbows him in the ribs.

“Okay, my volunteers,” says Allison, taking charge, “stand at attention, arms at your sides, please.  Close your eyes.  Listen to me and concentrate only on my voice, understand?”

The DJ kills the music, and only Allison and the surf can be heard.

“You are all relaxing deeply,” Allison tells her subjects.  “Breathing in, breathing out, letting your minds and bodies relax so very, very deeply.  Notice how your feet connect with the floor, how the sea-breezes caress your bodies.  Soon, you’re going to feel your muscles become heavy, very heavy, and you won’t want to move them.  Focus on me, please.”

All of the volunteers are motionless, their eyes closed and their faces expressionless.  I study Gracie, and then Chad.  Neither look hypnotized… but what do I know?

Allison begins snapping her fingers, in a loud, slow beat.  “As I snap,” she instructs, “you’ll discover your bodies relax a little more each time I do.  Imagine your feet are so heavy, you don’t want to pick them up.  Your hands, your shoulders, your neck, the muscles in your face… they are all becoming so very, very relaxed with every snap of my fingers.”

The clicks march on.  I notice that they seem synchronized with the ocean waves.

“There you go,” continues the hypnotist.  “Let yourselves go.  Let your eyelids become so relaxed, you couldn’t open them if you wanted to.  As you breathe in, breathe out, listening to my voice, your eyelids want to close down.  Let it happen.”

I blink.  Maybe my butt is falling asleep from sitting on the gazebo floor, but my legs feel heavy.  I’ll shift my weight in a moment.

“I’m going to count down from ten to one,” Allison announces, now silently pacing before her volunteers.  As she turns, I jealously regard her perfect ass in that thong.  “With each number I count, you will go ten times deeper into relaxation.  By the time I reach one, you’ll be completely relaxed, perfectly asleep, yet perfectly balanced on your feet.  Here we go…”

“ ** _Ten,_** ” says Allison, her voice loud.

I close my eyes, enjoying the smell of the salty air and the babbling surf.  I’m remembering this wonderful sunrise meditation class I once did at Jersey Beach.  It was better than getting high.  When this vacation is over, I should look into finding another mind-and-body class like that…

“ ** _Eight,_** ” Allison announces.  She continues telling her people how relaxed they feel.

Wait… what happened to nine?  Did she…  Ah, I don’t care.  I notice that my body feels disconnected from my thoughts, almost as if my spirit is about to detach and float around the world or something.  Except not in a creepy way.  Its nice, actually…

Allison goes on.  I think she just yelled out the number five.  Whatever, I don’t need to pay attention.

You know, when this vacation is over, I really need to get my love life on track.  I’m twenty-four, too old to pretend that I can wait another year to find my first serious boyfriend.  Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.  When I’m back in Connecticut, I’ll sign up for a few dating chatrooms and go on more blind double dates with Gracie.  I’m a semi-pro actress.  What man wouldn’t want to get some of me?

Yeah, that sounds good.  I picture my future boyfriend.  I start with Jarod, the monosyllabic lawyer, but I immediately start modifying the picture.  Future Boyfriend should be shorter, less muscly, but still thin.  A thin face, I’ve always liked thin faces.  And a good cook, I suddenly decide.  I can’t cook with a crap, and it would be nice to have a Mr. Right who can make more than egg noodles and Ragu.  Also…

******

A loud sound crashes into my thoughts and my eyes fly open with a start!  My entire body tenses.

I look about.  Everyone, except the hypnotized volunteers, are staring at me.  Jarod, in particular, looks the most amazed.

But… and here’s the kicker… Allison is leaning over me, one hand on my shoulder.  Her other hand is directly before my face.  She was snapping her fingers; that’s what the loud noise was!

“Hey there,” Allison says to only me, purring in that rich voice.  “You doing okay?”

“Sure,” I mumble, wondering why my brain feels so jumbled.

People around me begin to smile and whisper.

“I got an idea,” remarks Allison conversationally.  “Com’on up here with me, okay?”

“Uh… sure,” I say.  I allow the hypnotist to take my hand, and then lead me to the entranced volunteers.  Allison positions me to stand among them… which I don’t get.

“Okay, look at me, chick,” the gorgeous hypnotist commands.  I find myself looking into her eyes.

“ ** _Sleep!_** ” she barks, snapping her fingers.

My eyes close, and while I am still standing, I feel as if I physically dropped into the world’s softest feather bed.

Allison’s voice drones on, floating into my thoughts as if she is in my brain.  I listen, wondering what the hell is going on… but not really concerned about anything, either.

You know, this relaxation I’m experiencing… man, this is nice.  I wish I could turn this on when I need to sleep at night.

I allow my mind to drift...

******

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a talking genital. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

I kinda lose track of what happens next.  Allison is telling us things, things we will say or believe or do.  I listen without much interest, as I don’t see how any of this affects me in the slightest.

But then the hypnotist snaps her fingers, and I am awake, and doing the nuttiest things.  Every time she says the word “fuck,” I suddenly **_have_** to jump forward and dance.  Like, I hear her say that keyword, and I have **_no choice_** by to shake what my momma gave me.  I notice Gracie is dancing, too.

Another time, I open my eyes, and I realize that I am Wonder Woman.  Like, I **_totally am_** the real superhero, complete with the sexy outfit and gold rope and black hair and everything.  I stand with my hands on my hips, sternly offering safety tips to the audience, or throwing an invisible bad guy back into the sea.  The people watching the show laugh like hyenas, although I don’t know what is so funny.

And then Allison tells me to “ ** _Sleep!_** ” and I am back with my eyes closed, bathing in that perfect, tranquil relaxation.

******

“Okay, let’s really get inappropriate, eh?” I heard Allison ask the crowd.  There is applause and cheering.

“In a moment,” Allison announces, “I’ll count from one to five.  On the count of five, all the ladies on stage will open their eyes.  The instant you do, you will realize you are all professional porn actresses shooting a lesbian film.  You’ll come on to one another for that great sex scene-“

The audience roars with approval.

“-but you won’t go past first base,” finishes Allison.  “Remember, you guys are pros.  Impress us.  One, two, three, four… **_five!_** ”  She snaps her fingers.

******

My eyes flutter open.  Where am I…?

Right.  Silly me, I remember.  I’m Wanda Suckit, the hottest bitch in porn.  I’m here to shoot my latest blockbuster.

To my right is my friend and co-star, Gracie.  Ah, Gracie, we’ve never done a scene together, but you’re in for the full Wanda Suckit experience today, baby.

I move confidently to Gracie, cupping her bare breasts.  “Hey girl,” I say in a husky voice, then lean forward to kiss her.  We start tonguing immediately.

Around me, I sense my fellow actresses are pairing off and sucking face.  Well, they’ll have me and Gracie to compete with.

I press against my costar, enjoying the wetness blooming deep within my pussy.  Her tiny body feels wonderful against mine, except…

I need to get out of this one-piece bathing suit.  What self-respecting starlet would do a sex scene in a one-piece?

I break the kiss, turning around.  “Take it off,” I order Gracie in a husky voice.  “Take it all off.”

Like my programmed slave, Gracie meekly obeys.  I enjoy the kiss of sea air on my body as it is unveiled.

Then I have turned around again, once more tasting Gracie with my mouth and exploring her body with her hands.  I openly moan in delight, anxious to get to the fucking.

The audience erupts in whoops and cheers.  I don’t know why this porno is being filmed before an audience, but **_eh_**.  I’m a pro.  I can perform anywhere.

With Gracie firmly in my grasp, I raise one of my legs and plant my foot on a nearby lawn chair.  Then I seize her right wrist, guiding her hand down to my waiting pussy.

“Make me blossom,” I grunt, then press Gracie’s fingers-

“Whoa!” I hear Allison cry.  A hand appears on my shoulder.

“When I snap my fingers, you two will both realize who you are and what you are doing,” the hypnotist says rapidly.  Immediately, her fingers are clicking.

******

**_…the fuck?!?_ **

I stand back, confused and embarrassed.  I’m naked, and a second ago…

A second ago, I was Frenching my best friend, copping a feel on her breasts, and putting her fingers in my hoo-ha.  I go bright red.

Gracie looks stunned for a moment, but then rolls her eyes a little.

Around me, the other hypnotized women are making out.  There’s that topless hostess, kissing the chick who was playing guitar.  They seem oblivious to all the people staring at them.

“Ladies!” Allison shouts.  “At the count of three, you will all fall back to sleep!  One!  Two!  **_Three!!!_** ”

On their own, my eyes close and I forget everything that has happened.

******

I’m later aware of Allison telling the boys that now **_they_** are the gay porn stars.  Then there’s the sound of more kissing, and more laughter from the spectators.  I am deep in my encompassing relaxation, and I couldn’t care less.

The show goes on.

“I want to do one last bit,” Allison says after people are put back to sleep.  “I always save this skit for the one subject who has gone under the deepest.  It never fails to bring the house down.”

I feel the hypnotist’s small hand on my shoulder.  “To the person I am touching right now,” her voice says.  “When I awaken you, you will open your eyes, remembering nothing.  What you are about to discover is that **_your pussy is talking to you_**.  Somehow your vagina has **_an independent voice all of its own_** , and you’ll be able to hear it as clearly as you are hearing me.  Eyes open, one, two, **_three!!!_**

******

I blink, wondering what the fuck is going on.

I’m standing up with the hypnotized volunteers, Allison the hypnotist at my side.  Everyone in the audience is watching me closely, goofy smiles on their faces.

Oh, and I’m naked.  I’m standing naked in front of all these people.  You’d think I’d be ashamed… but curiously, I just don’t care.  I have a nice body.  Let ‘em look.  Thank God for those spin classes.

“Hey there,” Allison exclaims, clapping a hand on my shoulder.  “How you feeling?”

“Good,” I mumble, wiping my eyes.

“You know, I didn’t catch your name,” says Allison.  “You are…?”

“Maddie,” I reply.  We shake hands.

“Okay, Maddie,” the hypnotist says.  “Tell me, is this your first time to Bermuda?”

I nod.  “Yeah, I-“

“ ** _Holy fuck, is this bitch_ HOT!**” a gruff female voice blurts out.

I freeze.  Did someone in the audience say that about me?

“What?” Allison asks me.  “Something wrong?”

“No,” I assure her quickly.  “I’m-“

“ ** _Oh, I bet she gives great kisses down under,_** ” the mystery voice comments wistfully.  “ ** _If you catch my drift._** ”

Again, I pause, looking about.  I’m pretty sure that voice wasn’t someone in the audience.

No, definitely not.  I look behind me, but there’s only the hypnotized Chad and Mikey sleeping on their feet back there.

“ ** _Oh no, not those guys,_** ” says the voice.

“What’s up?” Allison asks me.

“I…” I stutter.  “Did you hear someone?”

The audience busts out laughing.

“No-one up here but you and me, honey,” Allison assures me.

“ ** _Ohhhhhh man, look at her rack,_** ” the voice leers approvingly.

Despite myself, I do glance down into Allison’s cleavage.  The girl does have a nice set, I’ll admit.

I yank my head out of the gutter.

The voice laughs, appreciatively.  She sounds like a heavy smoker.

Maybe I’m on crack, but that voice sounds like its coming from…  In disbelief, I lean forward a little and stare at my crotch.

“Girlfriend!” exclaims the hypnotist.  “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“I know this sounds crazy…” I say slowly.

“Yes?” Allison prompts.

“But… I think my vagina is talking,” I inform her.

The audience explodes with riotous laughter.

“ ** _Fuckin’ A!_** ” my vagina shouts.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly, putting both hands over my outspoken genitals.

Allison waves for the audience to quiet down.  “A talking pussy?” she says appreciatively.  “Wow, I think that’s a first.”

I smile sheepishly.

“Can we interview her?” Allison asks me.

Sometimes people ask you such a weird question, your brain doesn’t bother to actually process the logic.  “Uh, sure,” I say, still covering myself up.

“ ** _Hey, you’re blockin’ the view!  Let me see, bitch!_** ” yells my vagina.

Allison puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.  “What’s her name?”

“ ** _Gwendolyn!_** ” bellows the vagina.  “ ** _I’m fucking Gwendolyn!_** ”

Amazed at how weird this all is, I pass along this new information.

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name,” Allison assures me.

“ ** _Fucking right!_** ” retorts Gwendolyn.

I stare at the people watching, amazed they can’t hear my potty-mouthed vagina.  She’s really loud.

Allison has all sorts of questions for Gwendolyn.  I relay the answers.  Gwendolyn is nothing but over-opinionated, especially when it comes to the men in our little party.

“ ** _He’s a creep!_** ” she shouts when asked to comment about Flynn.  (The dude, thankfully, is in a hypnotic trance and doesn’t respond.)  Mikey is “ ** _a slickster!_** ”, his buddies are “ ** _wussies, HUGE wussies!_** ” and the poor entranced Chad is “ ** _a bigger pussy than I am!!!_** ”

Gwendolyn seems to have no sense of restraint or decency; she throws out the most horrible insults with abandon.  Thank God she isn’t racist.

We talk to Gwendolyn about other matters; current events, movies, favorite colors, you name it.  Allison fields questions from the audience, Gwendolyn immediately screams out her answer.  And then, because only I can hear her, I report on what she said.  I’m personally appalled at half the foul things my vagina is saying, but the audience love it.

Allison is deeply amused, too.  “Okay, one last question before we end the show,” she laughs.

A fatter guy in the front cries out, “Gwendolyn, what’s your favorite thing in the whole world?”

“ ** _Getting eaten out, fuckface!_** ” roars Gwendolyn.  “ ** _I need a woman’s tongue!  Who’s ready???_** ”

This is too much.

“Gwendolyn,” I snap.

“ ** _What?_** ” my vagina snaps back.

“I can’t tell them that!” I tell her.

Gwendolyn huffs.  “ ** _The fuck you can’t!  Say it!_** ”

“No,” I insist.

“ ** _Tell them!_** ” screams my outraged vagina.

“No!!!” I wail.

The audience is rolling, holding their sides with laughter.

“Okay, okay,” smiles Allison.  “We got it.  Maddie, look at me?”

Still angry with Gwendolyn, I look into the hypnotist’s eyes.

“ ** _SLEEP!_** ” she commands me.

******

I am back in deep relaxation, without a care or memory in the world.  Dimly, I sense the audience is recovering and settling down.

“All my hypnotized people,” Allison is saying, “in a moment, I’ll count up from one to ten.  On ten, you’ll all awaken, remembering **_everything_** we have done tonight.  Every suggestion I have put in your head will be **_completely gone_** from your mind.  You’ll step out of this show feeling refreshed, relaxed, and pleased with yourself for trying something new and amazing tonight.”

That sounds fine to me.

Allison counts, and as she does, its like my arms and legs and chest materialize back into the real world.  Soon, the hypnotist is snapping her fingers loudly, crying, “One!  Wide awake!”

I blink, brushing the hair from my eyes.  Gracie, Chad, and I look at one another, embarrassed but still okay with how crazy we acted tonight.

The audience bursts into wild cheers and applause.

******

After the show is over, the energy of the party fades.  We are almost out of beer, and the bonfire has nearly burnt itself out.  Couples are stealing away, one-by-one.

I’ve put back on my one-piece, and Jarod the Estate Lawyer has lent me a ratty sweatshirt.  I sit with the group, hugging my knees, thinking about my experience under hypnosis.  It was pretty wild, I’ll admit.  I’m not sure how I feel about all these strangers seeing me in my birthday suit.  I’ve done crazier things when I was wasted.

I look about.  Gracie has dumped one of her boytoys, and is snuggling close with the other.  That guy is gratefully fondling one of her breasts.  Elsewhere, Chad and Mikey are deep-kissing like there’s no tomorrow.  Jesus, I hope they remember to pause for air.

I smile.  Its nice to see Chad finally getting some good lovin’.  Mikey seems like a nice guy.

Gracie suddenly hops up, pulling her friend with her.  She leads him out of the gazebo, flashing me a naughty look as she goes.  I know **_exactly_** what she and Mr. Handsome are going to do.

As my friend disappears from the dying firelight, a sudden determination seizes me.  I’m not going to be the only member of our little gang who is not getting some!

“Com’on,” I say roughly to Jarod, and pull at his hand.

The big silent lug follows me like a puppy.  We trudge through the sand, the black waves mumbling before us.  The stars twinkle high above.

I pause.  Gracie and her friend are to our left, I think, but I’m pretty sure there’s another couple humping again not far to our right.  I can hear the woman wailing in delight over the noisy surf.

“This way,” I point, and lead Jarod to the left.

We walk over the wet sand, side-by-side.  Jarod is (still) completely silent, so I take his hand and try to pretend we are old lovers, about to celebrate our bodies like Adam and Eve.  My imagination is severely strained, but I do what I can.

We spot a man and woman out in the water, getting it on.  I can’t see much, but I’m pretty sure that’s Gracie and her boy.  The woman in on all fours, facing the shore, the warm ocean water splashing over her legs and lower arms.  The man kneels behind her, I guess sucking on her asshole?  I didn’t know Grace was into that.

But I don’t want to get any closer.  “Uh, this way,” I say awkwardly, and pull Jarod up over a dune.

We walk maybe twenty feet when Mr. Silent Type stops.  “This is good,” he grunts, then starts removing his pants.

Oh.  Man, I was expecting… I dunno, a little sweet-talk?  Hell, dirty talk?  Proper foreplay?  At least fooling around to warm me up?

We lie on the sand, which is colder than I expected.  Jarod is a lousy kisser, all tongue and teeth, no technique.  Whatever.  I kiss him back, trying to imagine a sexier man making love to me.

Jarod’s hands cup my boobs, then slide down to my hips.  We’re both realizing the same problem: with me dressed in a one-piece and then his sweatshirt, sliding his hands under my clothes is going to be a challenge.

“Hold on,” I grumble, and stand up.  I yank off the sweatshirt, then shimmy out of the swimsuit too.  I have to push it down from my shoulders to my ankles.  There’s no seductive way to do this.

“Jesus,” Jarod complains.  “You can’t make it sexy or something?”

“Um, how?” I snap.  “You want to try this?”

“I gotta keep my boner,” mumbles the lawyer.  He starts yanking on his Johnson.

 ** _Fuck me_** , here I stand, completely naked for the second time this evening, and my one-night-stand isn’t really getting me in the mood.

Over the crash of the waves, I hear Gracie moan:  “…oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah…!  **_Fuck_** yeah…!”  She’s getting louder.

Goddamnit, I’m getting some tonight if I have to assault every man back at the gazebo.  Determined, I push Jarod onto his back and then straddle his stomach.  He’s naked from the waist down, and I can feel his stiffie flopping up against my butt.  He’s only half-erect.

“Here,” I say, and plant both the lawyer’s hands on my boobs.  He grins, squeezing them like a baby with a toy.

Okay.  I can work with this.  I close my eyes, forcing my mind to picture, oh, I don’t know… Ryan Gosling down between my legs.  Yeah, Gosling’s cute, right?  I concentrate on that.

Gracie’s passionate cries grow louder.  I’m her roommate; I know that girl can get loud.

“Mmm,” I say, trying some dirty talk.  “Yeah, baby.  That feels good.”

“What does?” Jarod asks, surprised.

“You, um… you playing with my boobs.  I mean, my tits.  My tits,” I say hurriedly.  “Yeaaaaah, that feels good, baby.”

“Okay,” replies Jarod good-naturedly.

This isn’t working.  I’m not aroused.  Although on the plus side, Jarod’s little guy is starting to revive.  But I’m just not ready.  I need to do something to make myself wet.

“Yeah, you… you fuck-monster,” I coo, making up what I hope is really erotic wordplay.  “Yeah, squeeze me.  I want you inside me, I want it so-“

“ ** _Fuck no!_** ” a harsh woman’s voice yells, nearby.

I whip my head around.  Is someone spying on us?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready,” Jarod tells me, his voice lower.  “I wanna split you open, baby.”

“ ** _Fuck no!!!_** ” the harsh woman bellows, even louder.

Oh my God.  That voice… its Gwendolyn!

 ** _How the fuck can I be hearing Gwendolyn?!?_**   I only thought she could talk when I was hypnotized!  I’m not still hypnotized…

…am I?

“Com’on,” rasps Jarod, sitting up, and trying to push me down onto my back.

“ ** _Fuck, NO!_** ” Gwendolyn screeches, so loud, I swear I jump.  “ ** _No no no no NO NO NO!_** ”

“Hey, com’on,” I reflexively snap back at her, actually trying to talk out loud to my own vagina.

Jarod thinks I’m reproaching him.  “I’ll go easy,” he promises.

“ ** _RAPE!!!_** ” Gwendolyn hollers, sounding crazed.  “ ** _Help,_ RAAAAAPE!!!! _You’re not sticking that hairy penis in me!!!_** ”

“Shut up!” I say in exasperation, and desperately try to think about Ryan Gosling.

Jarod asks, “What?” and he doesn’t sound amused.

“Just, um, just **_do_** me,” I say hurriedly, getting on all fours and arching my back.  This position worked for Gracie, right?

Jarod hurries behind me.

But my talking vagina will have none of this.  “ ** _NOOOOOOOOO!!!_** ” she screams, much louder this time.  “ ** _Bitch, you better get that cock away from me, or I swear I’m gonna make sure you never have a moment’s fucking peace, YOU HEAR ME???_** ”

I can’t take it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I gasp, whirling around on the surprised Jarod.

“The fuck?” he exclaims.

Gwendolyn laughs in triumph.

Jesus Christ, how do I salvage my night of hot, random sex now?

Not thinking very clearly, I say to my boy:  “Uh…  Oh…  Um, let me suck you off, okay?”

And then, before Jarod or Gwendolyn can react, I spin around, grab Little Jarod with one hand, and pop him in my mouth.

“ ** _Awwwww, fucking GROSS!_** ” Gwendolyn recoils.

“What?” blubbers Jarod.  “Oh.  Okay.  Sure.”

So now, Jarod is on his knees, I’m as far down on my haunches and forearms as I can get, and I’m trying to suck on Jarod’s cock.  Oh, and my foul-mouthed vagina won’t shut up.

“ ** _Ewwwww!_** ” whines Gwendolyn.  “ ** _That’s the thingee where this dude’s pee comes out of!  Do you want to drink his pee???  Oh, I’m gonna barf.  So fucking sick!_** ”

I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to block out Gwendolyn as hard as I can.  I’m giving Ryan Gosling a blow job, I’m giving Ryan Gosling a blow job, I’m giving…

Man, this position really hurts.  I have to arch my back and neck like crazy.  And my jaw’s gonna cramp, I can feel it.

Over the dune, I can hear Gracie:  “Yes!  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, … ** _SANTA MARIA!!!_** ”

Gracie isn’t Latino or Catholic, but she always calls out to Santa Maria when she climaxes.  Sounds like this orgasm is one of her better ones.

I gag, trying to suck harder.  Above me, I hear Jarod grunt.  Is he enjoying this?

Man, I’ve never understood blow jobs.  In high school, my friends all made sure they mastered this skill early, but I don’t think they had to work very hard at it.  Me, the first time I had a cock in my face, I had no idea what to do.  I still don’t, really.

And you know what?  I get that the penis is supposed to be the absolute center of male arousal and all, and it’s a beautiful organ, and yadda yadda yadda, but…  Can I just say it?  They taste **_awful_**.  Jarod’s is maybe the fourth cock I’ve sucked, and they are all briny and… ech.

“ ** _You said it,_** ” Gwendolyn tells me.  “ ** _Dicks taste fucking horrible._** ”

Oh Jesus, Gwendolyn can read my thoughts?

Jarod lets out a sharp exhale, and I realize he’s not enjoying this.  I suck harder, only to gag again.

Okay, okay, so a BJ isn’t a good idea.  But I know Gwendolyn will shriek if Jarod tries to come in me.  I gotta do something.

I spit out the cock, wishing I didn’t now have that salty aftertaste in my mouth.  And before my man friend or vagina can say anything, I rise up on my knees.  I quickly press my naked body against Jarod’s arm and torso, and begin jerking him off as fast as I can.

“Com’on, big boy,” I say into Jarod’s ear, hoping I sound sexy.  “Cum for mamma.”

“ ** _Oh, this is siiiiiiiiiiiiick,_** ” complains Gwendolyn.

Jarod grimaces.  “Too fast,” he gasps.

Oh, okay.  I relax my grip and pump slower.

But the lawyer still isn’t happy.  “Here,” he grunts, suddenly pushing my hand away.  On his own, he works his cock, stroking it slowly but firmly.

I stare in disappointment as Jarod farts once, then begins cumming right into the sand.  He tilts his head up, his eyes closed, his hand jerking away.  Its like I’m not even necessary.

“ ** _Perv,_** ” Gwendolyn says snidely.  “ ** _Total pervert._** ”

I sigh, falling back to sit on the beach.  So ends my night of hot, one-night stand vacation sex.

******

The sea breeze gets cooler, and goosepimples sprout up on my skin.  I get back into my sand-filled bathing suit, borrowing Jarod’s sweatshirt for extra warmth.

Man, what time is it?  I’ve no idea.

My lawyer friend and I walk back to the gazebo is awkward silence.  Well, it would be silent, if Gwendolyn would just **_shut up_**.  My talking vajayjay goes on and on about how awful men are, how it’s a crime that women have to service them, how disgusting their bodies are.  She’s got a lot of brazen opinions, my vagina.

Now that I’m not trying to score, I’m coming to grips with… with… **_Jesus, its so weird to even say it,_** with my highly verbal vagina.  Like… how is it remotely possible for my sex organ to have a mind of her own and a voice that only I can hear?

And I’m sure only I can hear her.  If Jarod knew what insults she was lobbing at him, the dude would probably beat me up.  Gwendolyn is a raging bitch.

******

As we approach the remains of the Cove Cock party, Gwendolyn decides to complain about Gracie.  “ ** _That trashy ho!_** ” she grouses.  “ ** _The fuck was she thinking?  Her dude probably gave her crabs or warts or the fuck knows what else.  Seriously-_** “

I can’t take it.

“ ** _SHUT UP!_** ” I screech, stamping my feet and punching the air in frustration.  “ ** _SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP GWENDOLYN!!!_** ”

Jarod jumps away, eyeing me like I’m a psycho.

“ ** _I ain’t shuttin’ up,_** ” Gwendolyn tells me defiantly.  “ ** _You know everything I’m telling you is dead-on right._** ”

That’s it.  I yank off the ratty sweatshirt, thrust it at Jarod, then run to the gazebo.  Where’s that Allison chick?  She has to hypnotize me again.  She has to hypnotize Gwendolyn away.

But the gazebo is nearly deserted.  Allison is gone.

******

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a talking genital. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

I impatiently wait for over an hour, with no-where to go and nothing to do.  Jarod hurries off, mumbling about how he will text me, but we both know he’s lying.  He doesn’t even remember my name.

Fine, whatever.

Meanwhile, Gwendolyn rambles on and on, never shutting up.  I can’t listen to her; she belches out a foul stream-of-consciousness rant, mostly about penises and how sick all men are.  Its exhausting listening to her.

I sip the last beer, contemplating my circumstances.  Tomorrow, I’ll have to let Gracie and Chad go off on their own while I dreg the town for Allison.  She’s got to re-hypnotize me or something.  She made this problem; she’s making it go away.

******

Eventually Chad and Gracie stagger back to the Land of the Living.  My friends are drunk and have goofy smiles plastered on their faces.  Its no use trying to talk to them; we simply get their clothes and then make our way back to Cousin Chelsea’s house.  Thank God, she didn’t lock us out.

My smartphone is blinking with text messages, but I ignore it.  I can’t think about my shambolic life right now.

Gracie collapses onto the beat-up couch, and is out immediately.  Chad and I should inflate the air mattress, but we are too tired to care.  We lie down on the Seventies-era shag carpet and doze off there.

But the whole time, Gwendolyn is **_still_** raving away.  She’s loud – so goddamned loud! – but thankfully only I can hear her.  I’m so tired, I stop paying attention to her.

Soon I’m tumbling into sleep.

******

I wake sometime after sunrise, my mouth tasting like old rubber, my bladder screaming.  I hurry off to pee, feeling a bad hangover in the works.

As I sit on the toilet, I open up my phone…

…and immediately want to vomit.

Within seconds, I’m back in the guest room, kicking Gracie and Chad.  “Get up, get up, **_get up!_** ” I shriek, sounding like a madwoman.  “ ** _Get the fuck up!!!_** ”

“…the hell?” groans Chad, a hand to his forehead.

“ ** _GET UP, FUCKWADS!_** ” I screech.  “ ** _WE HAVE A SHOW TONIGHT!!!_** ”

Gracie opens one eye, glaring at me.  “ _…wha…?_ ” is all she can manage.

Despite my crazed state, I explain as best I can.  It seems that back in Connecticut, the Such-and-Such Society for Some Horrible Disease had a last-minute performer cancelation for their fundraiser tonight.  Sam is on the board, and seeing an opportunity to make a quick buck, he offered up a performance of Twelfth Night.

For tonight.

At 8:00 pm.

“Oh **_fuck!_** ” Gracie swears, sitting up fast.  Her hair is a scary bramble.

“What fucking time is it?” asks Chad, panicking.

Its 10:39 am.

Now all three of us are shitting bricks.  We aren’t supposed to be out of town.  If we aren’t in costume and in place at 7:45 pm, we’re **_FUCKED_**.  We have no understudies.  Sam’s wrath will know no end.

 ** _Seriously_** , this is a **_shitload_** of bad luck.  If the show doesn’t happen because we’re not there, we will obviously be fired.  Immediately.  Worse, the entire Tristate theatre community will all hear about our reckless absence.  We’ll never work again.  Even if we move out to California, the story of today will follow us.  We’ll never, **_ever_** fucking work again.

In a flash, Gracie, Chad, and I are blur of activity.  We throw on clothes and grab suitcases, not once bothering to look at ourselves in a mirror.  I make frenzied calls to taxi companies.  It is **_over an hour_** before we are picked up and rushed off to St. Georges Airport.

There’s no time to shop for flights.  **_We have less than six hours to be on stage._**   Cursing stupid Gracie for making me come on this stupid trip, I grossly overpay for three crappy seats to La Guardia, and then we are trying to blitz our way through security.

******

I am on Delta Flight 2938, sandwiched in coach between an eighty-year-old lady with a horrible sweater and a fat dude in biker leather.  The old lady regards me with blatant distaste, and I realize that I smell like beer, sweat, and possibly semen.  I’m sure I look like one of the Walking Dead.

I sigh, fighting my anxiety.

“ ** _Oh, who the fuck is that old bitch to look at you?_** ” a harsh voice cracks, coming down between my legs.

Oh fuck...!  Gwendolyn.

My rude vagina complains all the way to New York, insulting anything and anyone who strays into her dirty thoughts.  I clench my jaws and eyes shut, willing her to just **_go away_**.

******

Gwendolyn is a nonstop spout of offensive commentary all the way to New York.  But by the time the plane lands, I have bigger problems to worry about.  It is now less than two hours to curtain.

Thankfully it is easier to get out of an airport than going the other way.  Soon, Gracie, Chad, and I are outside baggage claim, begging New York City cabbies to drive us up to Connecticut for an outrageous amount of money.

“I can’t go that far!” protests a young Armenian driver with a crazy moustache.  “Is too far, city regulation say-“

“I’ll let you see my boobs,” Gracie promises, desperate.

The deal is sprung.  After a quick peep show, we are piled into the smelly car and racing north on I-95.

******

There is an accident outside Stamford, which costs us twenty minutes.  But before I know it, our cab is pulling up to the theatre.  Its 7:54.

“Oh shit,” Chad gulps in fear.  The audience, dressed in actual suits and gowns, is already filing in.  Too late to use the front entrance.

We make our cabbie loop around the block and drop us off in the back alley.  But then disaster strikes… the stage door is locked!

“ ** _Fuck!_** ” screams Gracie in pure despair.

I’m about to propose breaking a window when we hear a soft yet urgent voice.  “You guys!  Here, here!”

We look around wildly.  **_There!_**   On the loading dock!  That mousy-looking teenage intern is frantically beckoning us.

“I saw you guys from the window,” she squeaks.  “Hurry, they’ve already called curtain!”

That’s all we need.  Shouting half-hearted thank-you’s, we trample over the teen, desperate to get to our places.  We ignore the acid glares of our castmates.

The first scene – a short one – has already started.  Gracie’s on in like, **_a minute_**.  **_FUCK!!!_**   Thank God her character starts the play having survived a shipwreck; she only needs to pull on her dress, and she’s set to go.  She can comb her hair and apply makeup later.

Meanwhile, I have little time to get into my costume and transform into an Illyrian noblewoman.  I quickly strip, allowing our costume madam, other actresses, and the mousy intern to get me ready.  We work frantically.  Embarrassingly, I’m not wearing a bra or panties.

As the intern pulls my costume underclothes up over my hips, Gwendolyn can’t resist a saucy, “ ** _Thanks, toots!_** ”

Oh God.  How am I going to get through a performance with my loudmouth pussy?

******

But when I make my entrance, thank God, my stage training takes over.  I deliver my first three lines, and realize that despite the day’s craziness, I should be okay.  I know this play.  I’m a pro.

The audience seems mildly bored, but that’s okay.  I just have to make it to curtain call.

******

Its time for the scene where I meet and flirt with Gracie.

Fuck me, I thought I would be fine for this performance, but now I’m feeling light-headed.  I haven’t eaten today.  I blink, willing myself to stay focused.

“ _Let him approach,_ ” I say to Chad.  “ _Call in my gentlewoman._ ”

Chad exits, Gracie and pals enter.  Jeez, there are huge bags under Gracie’s eyes.  I’m pretty exhausted myself.

As the others assume their blocking, I risk a glance into the audience.

“ ** _Oh fuck me!_** ” Gwendolyn roars.  “ ** _Get a load of that fat old geezer in the second row!_** ”

I close my eyes in dismay.

“ ** _There’s_ NO WAY _that blonde is his wife!_** ” sneers Gwendolyn.  “ ** _Honey, I hope he paid you top dollar for those tits of yours._** ”

I look at Gracie, who is frozen in place and staring back at me in terror.

What?  **_Oh, shit!_**   Gwendolyn talked over the dialog; its my line.

I hurriedly say, “ _Speak to me._ ”

“ _Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty…”_ Gracie recites.

But Gwendolyn talks over her.  “ ** _What the fuck is up with_ THAT _broad’s hair?_** ” she spouts, still criticizing the audience.  “ ** _That is a fucking terrible dye job, mother fuck me._** ”

Now its my line again.

“ _Speak, cousin,_ ” I say.  “ _Or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak neither._ ”

Gracie’s eyes bulge.

Oh fuck!  I just gave one of Beatrice’s lines from Much Ado!  Fuck me!

“I mean,” I say rapid-fire, my mind spinning, “I doth… hath… ah, _If I do not usurp myself, I do.  I mean, am._ ”

I push on, praying that Sam is in the bathroom for this scene.  The blocking requires me to descend from my parlor chair, to flirt with Gracie, and then to wrap my arms around her.  I’m able to get to that part without any more flubs.

Soon Gracie and I are face-to-face.  Gracie’s character is flummoxed, trying to escape my romantic grasp.  Some folks in the audience are chuckling.

“ ** _Ho boy, here comes the lovin’_** ,” Gwendolyn jeers.

My head whirls, and for a moment, I don’t know where I am.  Despite her frazzled experience, Gracie looks beautiful.

My friend delivers her line:  “ _I see you what you are, you are too proud.  But, if you were-_ “

Before I can stop myself, I lunge forward and kiss her, full tongue.  My hand also goes for her crotch, sliding up her thigh quickly.

I hear gasps from backstage.  The audience also seems stunned.

******

 ** _Thank God_** Gracie is able to improv her way out of that scene.  I get off as soon as I can, complaining about low blood sugar or some such shit to the stagehands.  I don’t think the rest of the cast believes me.

But we are able to stagger through the rest of the performance.  Gwendolyn does her best to trip me up with every scene, but through some miracle, I’m able to pull through.

******

After the performance, I go straight home, lock myself in my bedroom, and stare at the ceiling.  I’ll be lucky if Sam doesn’t fire me in the morning.

“ ** _You’ll be lucky if you’ll ever seem like a normal fucking human being again,_** ” Gwendolyn sneers at me.

“Shut the fuck up!” I scream at her, outraged.

“ ** _Ignoring me is only gonna make everything fucking worse, honey,_** ” taunts Gwendolyn.  “ ** _Trust me._** ”

I bitterly argue with her, but its no use.

Not for the last time, I wonder how, how is it **_FUCKING POSSIBLE_** for me to still be hypnotized to believe my vagina is talking?  Am I such a weak-willed person that hypnosis can permanently fuck me up?

“ ** _You know what your problem is?_** ” Gwendolyn rumbles.  “ ** _You just aren’t fucking listening to me, that’s the fucking problem.  I wouldn’t be so Goddamned pissy if you’d pay me some fucking attention._** ”

But I **_am_** paying all my attention to her.  Jesus, Gwendolyn is so freakin’ loud and annoying, its impossible to tune her out.

I cover my face with my hands in despair.  My vagina is a horrible bitch, angry and sullen at the whole world.

******

In the morning, I carefully avoid Gracie, and then lock myself in my room again.  Thankfully, Gracie finds somewhere else to be.  Gwendolyn and I are alone.

So I work my smartphone, determined to find Allison the hypnotist.  That Flynn guy said she was in Atlantic City, right?  If I can find her, I can rent a car and drive down in, like, three hours.  She can hypnotize me and fix this mess.

I Google the hell out of “Atlantic City Hypnotist.”  There’s a few sleazy-looking stage performers, all male.  And a number of hypnotherapists.  No-one named Allison.

Fuck.  I’m getting sick to my stomach.

“ ** _You’re such a duuuuuuuuuumb bitch,_** ” Gwendolyn tells me.  “ ** _If I had your brain, we’d be out of this mess in like, three seconds._** ”

“Shut up,” I order her, changing my Google search.  Maybe Allison uses a stage name?

I’m about to give up when I notice that the Tropicana has a midnight hypnosis show in its basement theatre.  The hypnotist is named… Enchantra.  Sounds cheesy.  I click the link.

Wait!  Its her!  Allison is Enchantra!  There’s a publicity photo of her, grinning at the camera and swinging a pocketwatch before a dazed-looking bimbo.  I see her Chinese dragon tattoo, and I’m sure.

I hurriedly dial the Tropicana, ignoring Gwendolyn’s obscene commentary.  A bored-sounding woman gives me the number of Enchantra’s manager.

And it takes some coaxing, but finally the manager gives me Allison’s cell.  I dial her up immediately, my heart pounding.

The line picks up after three rings.  “ _Hello?_ ” that rich, familiar African-American voice says.

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Hello Allison?” I blurt out, overexcited.  “Hi, this is Maddie, you probably don’t remember me, but you hypnotized me down in Bermuda a few days ago, you made me think my vagina was talking, remember?”

There’s a slight pause.  I hear some dim commotion on the line; it sounds like Allison is in a public place.

“ _Oh, Maddie!_ ” Allison exclaims, then laughs.  “ _Yes, baby, I remember you.  You were so great in the show.  Thanks for participating._ ”

“Right, right,” I babble.  “Listen, so you remember how you made me think-“

“ _Your vagina was talking?_ ” Allison finished, still laughing.  “ _Yeah, that’s always a popular bit.  You did great with it._ ”

“Listen,” I snap.  “My vagina is **_still talking!_** ”

There’s a pause.

“ _Wait, what?_ ” Allison asks, no longer laughing.

“ ** _She doesn’t believe you,_** ” Gwendolyn cracks.

“My pussy is still talking to me,” I wail.  To my surprise, I am nearly in tears.

“ ** _She thinks you’re fucking nuts,_** ” says Gwendolyn.  “ ** _I think you’re fucking nuts, too._** ”

“ _Whoa,_ ” Allison says quickly.  “ **Still** _talking to you?  That’s impossible._ ”

“She’s still talking!” I almost scream.  “She’s driving me crazy!”

“ ** _See?_** ” sneers Gwendolyn.

“ _Baby, baby,_ ” says Allison, her voice concerned.  “ _At the end of the show, I removed all hypnotic suggestions from your mind.  There’s no way anything I did-_ “

“She’s still talking,” I cry out.  “She **_won’t shut up_** and she’s such a bitch!”

Allison’s tone is now firm.  “ _Now listen to me.  Normally I ask my volunteers to sign a consent waver.  But I’m telling you now, if you are trying to sue me, there’s no way any court will-_ “

Things are spiraling out of control.  “I don’t want to sue you,” I blubber, the tears finally welling up in my eyes.  “I want your help!  I need you to help me!”

Allison hesitates.  “ _Okay,_ ” she says cautiously.  “ _I’ll do what I can._ ”

Desperate, I ask, “Can I drive down to see you?”

“ _Hold on, hold on,_ ” the hypnotist replies.  “ _Just… just tell me everything.  Everything.  We’ll start there._ ”

So I regale her.  While skipping the graphic parts, I describe the bad sex with Jarod the Lawyer, the mad flight home, the disaster of last night’s performance, everything.

“And stupid Gwendolyn is **_still_** yelling at me,” I finish, quietly sobbing.  “She’s destroying my life.”

Allison is silent.  I listen to the soft noises behind her.  At one point, I think I hear a bell.

“ _Okay, I’ll just come out and say it,_ ” Allison finally says.  “ _You’re_ **not** _hypnotized._ ”

“Okay…” I say, furiously wiping away tears.

“ _You are also not under hypnotic suggestion,_ ” adds Allison.  “ _Hypnotic suggestions wear off quickly, especially embarrassing shit like talking vaginas._ ”

“Okay,” I acknowledge.  “So then why…”

“ _Well, I don’t know,_ ” Allison admits.  “ _Maddie, you have an exceptionally powerful imagination, one of the most amazing I’ve encountered in almost fifteen years of doing hypnosis.  Most people would kill for your sheer creative brainpower.  But I think in this case, your subconscious is working against you._ ”

“ ** _No shit!_** ” shouts Gwendolyn, sounding frustrated.

“ _I’m not a shrink, so I can’t tell you how to fix this,_ ” the hypnotist continues.  My heart begins to sink.  “ _But I do know this:  Hypnotism isn’t the problem here.  Even if I were to put you under, it wouldn’t solve anything._ ”

“Can’t… we just try?” I ask helplessly.  “I don’t know what else to do.”

“ _Sorry, baby,_ ” Allison says gently.  “ _I’m leaving._ ”

“Say what?”

“ _I’m doing a gig as the hypnotist on a four-week Caribbean cruise,_ ” explains Allison.  “ _On the boat now.  We’re actually just pulling out of the harbor._ ”

Gwendolyn snorts, “ ** _Oh, just fucking great!_** ”

I feel as if I’ve been shot.  “No…” I say.

“ _Listen to me, Maddie,_ ” Allison says, urgently.  “ _Your subconscious is_ **extremely powerful** _.  Its trying to tell you something.  Something key about yourself._ ”

The line starts to break up.

“My sub…” I cry.  “What is my subconscious-”

“ _I shouldn’t have done the talking vagina bit,_ ” muses Allison.  “ _I’ve heard it can backfire with lesb-“_ Static.  She cuts back in: _“But you were such a good subject.  I thought-_ “

And the line goes dead.

******


	4. Chapter 4

  
***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a talking genital. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

 

 

Gwendolyn, of course, has nothing by nasty insults and vulgar comments about Allison.  I dully listen to her.  But I really couldn’t care less what my vagina has to say right now.

Oh, what the fuck am I going to do?  I picture myself in the distant future as a wizened old maid, sitting by myself in a rocking chair at the Old Folks Home for Insane People.  The staff would look at me and shake their heads.  “ _There’s the crazy ol’ bitch who spent her life thinking her vagina was talking to her,_ ” they’d say.  “ _No-one wanted anything to do with her after that._ ”

I push the image out of my mind, refusing to go through life taunted by Gwendolyn.  I have to do something.  What?

Talk to Gracie?  Or Chad?  They were both hypnotized with me.  They might get it.

Or, more likely, they’ll think the whole thing is funny and the teasing will never end.  I love my friends, but we can be dicks to each other.

I brush a strand of hair from my eyes.  What did Allison say?  Did she get the impression I was a lesbian?  Why would she think that?  Maybe she didn’t see me chatting up Jason, I think.

“ ** _Oh yeah,_** ” Gwendolyn says sarcastically, “ ** _you were everything that boy could hope for in a sex partner._** ”

I angrily push this line of thinking out of my mind.

******

Then, I hear the front door open and close.  Gracie’s home.

I sigh.  I haven’t spoken to Gracie since the performance.  Time to face the music.

Dreading the conversation, I step out of my room.  Gracie is throwing her coat into the closet; she studies me warily.

“You okay?” she asks.

I shrug.  “Its been a tough few days,” I admit.

Gracie nods, and seems to disarm.  “Yeah,” she agrees.  A pause.  “I’m sorry I dragged you and Chad to Bermuda.  That was fucking stupid of me.  I can see the stress got to you.”

I’m surprised but grateful at Gracie’s admission.  In fact, I’m so relieved, that I run forward to hug her.  A hug feels good.

Gwendolyn is uncharacteristically silent.

“You okay?” Gracie says, studying me closely.  “You want me to make some tea?”

She can tell that I’ve been crying.  Embarrassed, I wipe my eyes.

“No, no, no, I’m fine,” I lie.

Gracie is tempted to challenge me, but decides to change the subject.

“Well, it looks like Sam is mad at us, but we aren’t fired,” she says matter-of-factly.  “The audience liked the show, and he made money.  All’s well that ends… you know.”

“Oh – and get this,” Gracie adds, her eyes lighting up.  “You know Jorge?  That new guy up on spot?”

“The gay Jorge, right?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Gracie nods.  “Well, our boy Chad asked him out.  Seems like getting hypnotized in Bermuda might have enlightened him on a few things.”

She smiles.  “Good for Chad.  He’s been lonely for too long.  You know-“

In that second, a thunderbolt hits me.  My brain clicks.  **_I know what I have to do._**

“You were at the theatre?” I interrupt.  “Just now?”

Gracie blinks.  “Yeah,” she says.  “The staff came in this morning, to rearrange the wings.  We have to start building out Romeo before Twelfth Night closes.  I popped in to see if I could-”

“Hey,” I interrupt again.  “You know that teen intern?  You know, the little mousy one?  What’s her name again?”

Giving me a funny look, Gracie says, “You mean… Gwendolyn?”

******

I arrive at the theatre in under five minutes, nearly out of breath.  Gracie was right, the whole staff is here, moving set pieces in and out of the wings.  Sam, the director, gives me an annoyed glance, but doesn’t say anything.

But the person I need to see isn’t here.  My feet racing, I descend into the pit, and then to the back rooms.

Geez, its like a dungeon down here.  We actors never venture below the stage level.

Wait, there’s prop room!  The door is open.  I push my way inside.

There, tending to a plastic roast turkey on a platter, is our intern.  She looks up at me in surprise.

“ ** _She’s… gorgeous,_** ” my vagina murmurs, for once sounding pleased.

Indeed she is.  As if for the first time, I look at, **_really look at_** this girl.  She is small, thin, delicate, but with flowing black hair that frames her beautiful face in the most perfect way.  Her lips are small, almost was if she was born with a pucker.  And her deep, hazel eyes gaze at me with tenderness.

She.  Is.  Gorgeous.

“Gwendolyn?” I say.

The teen straightens, instinctively hugging herself.  “Is there something you need?” she asks softly.

Her voice is delicate, almost lilting.  She’s like a deer, I swear.

“No,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward.  “I just… I, um…  Well, I realized…”

The eighteen-year-old listens quietly, looking a little alarmed.

“I never thanked you,” I manage.  “I mean, you saved my butt the other day.  When you let us in from the alley.  You saved the show.”

“I was just glad you made curtain,” the girl blushes.  After a slight pause, she adds, “You’re the best thing in this show.  I love watching you from the wings.”

“Flatterer,” I tease before I can stop myself.

“ _Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind_ _,_ ” the teen replies.

She’s quoting Olivia!  She’s quoting **_my character!_**

My smile grows wider.  Oh, I can play by this game.  I know this fucking play back and forth.  “ _Nor know I you by voice or any feature_ _,_ ” I quote back.  Somehow, my feet are moving me forward.

Gwendolyn the teenager stares at me, surprised but smiling slightly.

“You know the worst thing about being an actress here?” I ask her softly as we grow closer.  “You spend all your time with the cast; you never get to know the interns.”

“I’ve always been here,” Gwendolyn whispers.

We are toe-to-toe.  I’m gazing at her.  There’s magic in the air.

Suddenly, I have to kiss her.  I **_have_** to.

I lean forward.  Our lips touch, just slightly.

And…

Oh.  My.  God.

I feel a rush of emotion, wonderful and invigorating.  Its like the teen’s lips are divine, and now an enchantment I have never known is flowing into my body and soul.

My heart leaps.

My thoughts fade.

Time stops.

I’m so happy.

Holy shit…  I’ve been kissing the wrong gender all my damn life.

I kiss Gwendolyn more, deeper, allowing my own tongue to peak through **_just_** a little bit and touch hers.  I feel her arms encircle me, and I am delighted at the embrace.  Her little body is warm against mine.

And deep within me…?  My vagina sighs happily.

Oh, I know I will never hear that angry, gruff voice again.  She and I have found what we were looking for.

******

 


End file.
